


Deux Pieds Gauches

by NoahTN98



Series: Wicked Hearts of Wicked Men [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: All the elves, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cullen Fluff, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Cullen's first threesome, Dancing, Deflowering virgins is Dorian's favourite pastime, Dorian Being Dorian, Dorian fluff, Dorian's silk scarves, Elves, First Time Blow Jobs, Halamshiral, I'm sorry for the feels, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Original Character(s), Orlais, Rough Sex, Slow Dancing, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age), Threesome - M/M/M, Trevelyan (Dragon Age) Being a Jerk, crying Dorian, happy reading session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-23 04:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoahTN98/pseuds/NoahTN98
Summary: Upon arrival at Halamshiral, the group set out upon getting organised for the Ball at the Winter Palace. With a few days to spare, Dorian decides that now is the perfect time to fulfil one of Cullen's many fantasies. After which, it will be a gruelling day of final checks, organisation, and of course, the Ball. Cullen has plans to dance publicly with Dorian, but with the fate of the world resting on the Inquisition's fingertips, how will it go?Deux Pieds Gauches - Two Left Feet





	1. Chapter 1

Upon arrival at Halamshiral, two days before the ball, the carriages come to a gentle halt outside a relatively large building. A gentle pat on Cullen’s shoulder from Leliana has him awake, half confused by the sudden change in scenery. As the group begins to alight the carriages, Cullen glances around at the dozen children and adults that were staring at them all. All of them elves. He turns to Leliana, who speaks before he has the chance.

“Halamshiral is populated by elves, Commander. If we keep to ourselves, they will be no trouble.” She says, turning to Josephine as she returns. “I trust everything is well, Josie?”

“Yes. Everything has run smoothly, and our rooms have all been reserved, as was the expectation.” She smiles, a slight sigh of relief coming from her. “We can tie our horses for this evening, and tomorrow evening. They have a stablehand who will care for them while we are here.”

Cullen nods, and glances around, searching for Dorian. He spots him, raising his eyebrow at the disgusted face he was pulling.

“C’mon, Dorian!” Bull grinned, putting his hand on the Vint’s shoulder. “That one over there is giving you _the look_.”

“I highly doubt the look he is giving me is that of a desire for sexual conquest, Bull.” He puts his hand on the Qunari’s, slipping out of his hold. “Given my appearance, I more think his look is that of a desire for murder.”

“Well, shit. If you’re not going to take it, I’ll have a go myself.” Bull smirks.

“I don’t think so.” Cullen says as he walks over, protectively sliding his hand around Dorian’s waist, glaring at Bull in disapproval. “First, why you would even suggest Dorian bed another man when you are aware of his relationship, is beyond me. Second, Josephine specifically stated not to bring stragglers back to the inn, as she doesn’t want the Inquisition to appear in a bad light.”

“Dorian employed my help to fulfill one of your fantasies, Cullen.” Bull crosses his arms, his smirk still plastered across his face, watching as Cullen’s face turns red. “He wanted to surprise you. I think the Commander of the Inquisition can get away with a _little_ bad behaviour, can he not?”

Cullen swallows, his voice faltering, feeling as though his soul had just left his body at what Bull had said. He glances at Dorian, and then back at Bull, who burst out in laughter. “Bull, I… I’m so sorry. I should have known you wouldn’t be suggesting Dorian be unfaithful. Please. Accept my most sincerest of apologies.”

“No harm done, Cullen. Let me know if you need any help. I can get _anyone_ into bed, and I’m more than willing to do it for you two.” Bull walks off to help with the unpacking of the supplies carriage.

“Amatus…” Dorian turns to look at Cullen, trying his best not to show the faintest hint of amusement at the shock on Cullen’s face. “I merely wanted to surprise you.”

“Love, I…” Cullen licks his lips, trying to find the words, glancing back at Bull. He then glances at the elf that Bull had been staring at, also receiving a murderous glare. “Think that we should decide on a guest together.”

“I understand.” Dorian hums, his hand briefly brushing against Cullen’s chest. “We have two days of free time, here. Should anyone catch your eye, simply tell me.”

Cullen nods, and presses a light kiss to Dorian’s forehead. “Of course, love. Should you spot anyone, feel free to do the same. Anyway, I should assist in unpacking. Go and find our room.” He smirks, discreetly patting Dorian’s ass to usher him away. Dorian bites his lip, and goes off with Trevelyan, discussing room assignment. Moving over to the supplies carriage, Cullen assists in unpacking whatever was left to unpack, taking it inside. Trevelyan returns moments later with Dorian, rooms assigned.

“There are three rooms with double beds, and one with single beds. Josephine and I will be sharing the largest double bed room, Dorian, Cullen, and Bull will have the two other rooms. They are the same size, so you are free to sort it among yourselves. Cassandra and Leliana, you shall have the room with single beds, as per your requests.” Trevelyan says, glancing over the group. “Bull, a word, please?” He says, and walks off somewhere secluded, Bull following him.

Cullen watches the two men walk away, and then turns his attention to Dorian. “Lead me to our room then, love. I assume you have already assigned us one from your brief browse.”

“Of course I have, amatus. Follow me.” Dorian smirks, and hums, turning to lead Cullen to their room. Cullen rolls his eyes, and follows Dorian up the stairs, carrying both their knapsacks and various items Dorian insisted on bringing.

“Oh! Commander Cullen, before you leave,” Josephine makes her way quickly over to Cullen. “We will all be meeting in the hall for dinner at sundown. If you intend to leave and have a look around Halamshiral, please ensure you are back before then.”

“Don’t worry, ambassador. We will be back before Dorian has the chance to complain about the _evil evening chill_.” He chuckles lightly, resuming up the stairs, and into the room Dorian had chose for the two of them. Placing their personal belongings down on the bed, Cullen takes a moment to look around, his gaze flicking to Dorian as he begins to remove articles of clothing. “Love, the door is open.”

“Close it then, will you?”

Cullen blinks, his gaze being met by Dorian’s, who was raising his eyebrow. He clears his throat, and turns, closing the door, and turning back to watch Dorian. “What exactly are you doing?”

“If we are to go out into the city today, I would like to at least look presentable, and not like someone who has just spent seven days travelling in the same clothes.” Dorian hums, looking up at Cullen. “In my knapsack, I have packed a change of clothes for you, as well. Walking around in armour is _asking_ for problems.” He drolls.

“You… Packed a change of clothes for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, I just…” Cullen frowns at his own confusion, and grabs the knapsack, getting out the clothes. Dorian had packed some beige breeches, and red long sleeve tunic. He stares at the clothes, and then at Dorian. “Love, these aren’t mine.”

“Yes they are.” Dorian smiles, walking over to take the clothes in hand. “I bought them for you when I last visited Val Royeaux. I was saving them.”

Cullen smiles, cupping Dorian’s cheek, kissing his forehead. “Thank you, love.” He moves back, and changes his clothing, liking the snugness of his new clothes. “These are wonderful. They… Must have been very expensive. How did you ever afford this?”

“Come now, you must never ask the price of a gift bestowed upon you, Commander.” Dorian closes the gap between them, resting his hand on Cullen’s chest. “Anyway, I say we go out and make the best of the free time we have, before I change my mind and ravish you right here.” He purrs, looking Cullen up and down.

Cullen chuckles, and takes Dorian’s hand. “Oh, the things you say. Let us go, then.”

***

Cullen walks cautiously through the city with Dorian close at his side, their hands hovering next to each other, yet not quite touching. Cullen had never seen a city like this in all his life, having spent the majority of it in the circle. He looks around, his mouth slightly agape, snapping back into focus when Dorian’s hand finally joins with his. Looking down at the other man, he smiles, squeezing his hand lightly. “I have to say, the city is beautiful.”

“It is impressive, yes. But it is nothing compared to great cities of Tevinter.” Dorian hums. “Perhaps one day we can venture back to my homeland, when it is safe, and I can show you around.”

“I would like that.” Cullen hums, nudging his shoulder lightly against the other man’s. His gaze returns to the city, looking around, eyes pausing on the vision of the Winter Palace in the distance. “Maker, it’s beautiful…”

“I’m rather intrigued as to what it looks like inside those gates.” Dorian says, stopping, taking time to look at the building. “I wonder if the ball will be like those we have at home. We are partaking in the Great Game, correct?” He hums, and turns his attention to a tavern that catches his attention. “Drink?”

“I think I need one after the last few days.” Cullen agrees, and follows Dorian into the tavern, a wave of relief rushing over the both of them at the thought of finally having alcohol. “Though, you understand that I will prevent you from drinking too much, yes?”

“I believe you will try, amatus.” Dorian smirks, his eyes darting briefly around the tavern, coming to rest at the bar as he rests against it.

“You are completely incorrigible, you know that?”

“I am fully aware of that, yes, and you love it.”

Cullen rolls his eyes, a smile painting his lips, ordering two drinks. “I suppose I do.” He lets his shoulder brush lightly against Dorian’s, picking up the drinks as they come. “Right, let’s find a table.” He turns, his eyes flicking around, shrugging and following Dorian as he lays claim to a table farthest away from the tavern crowd.

Dorian watches as Cullen sits, and places the drinks down. “I must say, your clothes are attracting a lot of attention. They are certainly showing off your… Finer assets.” He purrs, watching a sudden discomfort pour over Cullen’s face. “Oh no, don’t be alarmed, amatus. Attention from other people is exactly what you should want.”

“Attention from people I do not know is the exact opposite of what I want right now, Dorian.” Cullen sighs, swallowing nervously, bringing his tankard to his mouth and taking a drink.

“No? Such a shame. Which of us will be the one to tell the young man over there that he doesn’t stand a chance with us this evening, then?” Dorian bites his lip, his eyes directing Cullen’s to one particular elf, who had been ogling the two of them since they arrived. “He seems to enjoy the sight of your finer assets in your new clothing.”

Cullen focuses on the young man, who appeared to shy away as his gaze was met, watching as the tips of his ears paint a bright pink against the light color of his skin. “Dorian, we… We don’t even know him.”

“Shall we invite him to join us, then?” Dorian asks, grinning as Cullen nods in approval, standing and walking over to the young man, inviting him to join them.

***

Dorian watches the young man leave, having informed him of the inn they were staying at, should he wish to join them later in the evening. His attention then turns back to Cullen, who had polished off more than enough ale, the Commander donning a heated tinge on his cheeks. “Are we still in the land of the living, amatus?”

“Very much so, my love. Though, I do believe we should leave, and explore other aspects of the city, before we mistakenly drink ourselves into oblivion.” Cullen hums, running his hands through his hair, pushing himself up from his chair. “If we have the time, that is. Josephine is expecting us back before sundown.”

“I am aware of our ambassador’s wishes, amatus.” Dorian stands as well, sliding his fingers loosely between Cullen’s, leading the man out of the tavern. The pair take a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the light, a sigh passing Cullen’s lips, the sun already beginning to set.

“We must have spent longer in there than we had intentioned.” Cullen points out, his hand beginning to join with Dorian’s, walking with him back to the inn.

“Evidently, yes. Fortunately, we still have tomorrow to explore the city, yes?” Dorian looks hopefully at Cullen.

“Well, we should have the afternoon to continue our explorations. However, we are expecting the tailor to arrive tomorrow with our formal wear for the Ball, so it will be mandatory for each of us to try it on.” Cullen hums. “I have to say, I am very much hoping the wear looks much better in person than it did in planning. I understand the need to preserve resources, but you would think something a lot more _suitable_ could be chosen for the Inquisition.”

Dorian chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Yes, I am very much on the same page as you, here. Though, coming from Tevinter, the lacklustre fashion of the South is something I am getting used to. Not a lot surprises me anymore.”

“You may change your stance on that statement when you’re greeted with the formal wear tomorrow.” Cullen laughs, pushing open the door to the inn, greeting the elf behind the desk and wandering through to find Josephine and Maxwell relaxing on a sofa. “Good afternoon, Lady Montilyet. Inquisitor.”

“Good afternoon, Commander. Lord Pavus.” Maxwell looks up from the book they were reading, an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. “I trust you had fun?”

“If you define ‘fun’ as ‘finding the nearest tavern and having a well deserved drink’ then yes, we did have fun.” Dorian grins, releasing Cullen’s hand to allow the man to peruse the books on the shelf.

“Wonderful, well, dinner will be ready in less than ten minutes.” Josephine plucks the book from Maxwell’s hand, placing it down on the small coffee table. “Leliana, Lady Cassandra, and Bull are already in the mess hall, so if you would like to follow me, we shall join them.”

***

Hours pass, and late evening comes, Dorian quietly escorting Alinar, the young man from earlier in the evening, through the inn. “Amatus,” Dorian purrs, opening the door to their room. “We have a friend for the evening.”

Cullen bites his lip, watching as the elf enters the room, looking lost. “Hello again, Alinar. I have to say, neither of us were really expecting you to actually join us.” He says softly, watching as Dorian closes and locks the door, inviting Alinar to sit next to him on the bed. “Have you done anything like this before?”

Alinar shakes his head, sitting with Cullen, both men watching as Dorian lights several candles around the room. “I’ve never done anything like this, Ser.” His accent was weak, though Orlesian.

Dorian turns, his eyebrow raised at the young man. “Is this your first time?”

“Yes, Ser.”

“I have to say, deflowering virgins appears to have become a somewhat… Pastime of mine, now.” He says, almost to himself, joining Cullen and Alinar on the bed. “Thankfully, you have two people here that have experience in sexual matters.” He purrs. “First, some ground rules. If, at any point, either of you wish to stop, simply say, and we will stop. No judgement, no questions. Second, no drawing of blood, and no non-sexual fluids. Third, be considerate. Pay attention to your partners and their needs. Am I clear?”

“Yes, love.”

“Yes, Ser.”

“Excellent.” Dorian smiles, and rests his hand lightly on Alinar’s knee. “I have a question in regards to your preference, though I am sure I already know the answer.”

“What is it, Ser?”

“Please, call me Dorian. Anyway, would you rather give or receive?”

“I don’t know, Se- Dorian.” Alinar bites his lip, his eyes trailing over the men, fixating mostly on Cullen. “I am more inclined to receive, though.”

Dorian smirks, and leans forward to whisper into the elf’s ear. “Kiss him. He is _very_ good at kissing.”

Cullen watches as the elf ponders on the idea for a moment, then leans in slowly, bringing him into a gentle kiss. A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, his own hand placed lightly on the young man’s hips. The pair separate moments later, the elf’s ears drooped, looking completely disheveled.

“See, what did I tell you?” Dorian grins, raking his fingers lightly through Alinar’s hair. The elf leans back into Dorian’s touch, his eyes closing. “Shall we go slow, or are you-” He breaks off, watching as the elf starts to unbutton his shirt, wasting no time. His gaze flicks up to Cullen, who shrugs, moving to take his own shirt off but hesitating at the last moment.

Alinar is kept distracted by Dorian, who runs his fingers over his chest and shoulders, giving Cullen the time he needs to calm himself down and take his shirt off. Once it is, Cullen reaches around the elf, and helps him to remove Dorian’s clothing. “He always dresses rather extravagantly.” Cullen muses.

Once the various articles of clothing are removed, Alinar turns to face Dorian, looking the man over. Dorian watches as his lips part, leaning forward to kiss the elf, a lot harder in comparison to how Cullen had previously kissed him. The elf groans in his throat, making an effort to move into Dorian’s lap, who welcomes the man and holds his hips. Cullen watches, a mixture of confusion and arousal washing over him, his hand moving down to palm himself through his breeches. He emits a groan, one that distracts the other two men from each other.

“It appears that beautiful man there would also like some attention.” Dorian purrs to the elf, smirking at Cullen. “How about we give him some?”

Alinar nods, and Dorian encourages him onto Cullen’s lap, shifting closer to the both of them when his own lap is elf-free. Dorian leans up, whispering _he’s already hard_ into Cullen’s ear, moving Cullen’s hand against Alinar’s crotch. The elf inhales sharply, his hips rocking against the large hand, his hands planting themselves on Cullen’s arms. Cullen looks at Dorian, who gives him a reassuring nod, then allows his body to move instinctively and roll the elf underneath him. Everything pauses for a moment, waiting for a negative reaction from their guest, more than happy when such a reaction doesn’t come.

Dorian stands from the bed, going to his knapsack, retrieving a jar of oil. Placing it on the bedside table, he removes the rest of his clothing down to his smalls, Alinar having already eagerly kicked them off in the space between being pinned under Cullen, and Dorian fetching the oil. Dorian stands watching, the outline of Cullen’s arousal thick in his breeches, his hips rocking down lightly against the elf’s as kisses him. “Sweet Maker, if you two continue like that, I fear I shall make a mess of my smalls before I even get a chance to join in.” He teases, watching as two pairs of eyes flick up to meet his, Cullen reaching over and pulling him onto the bed.

“He’s very eager, Dorian. I think perhaps we should show him a better time than he’s already having.”

“I do think you’re correct, amatus. Would you like to open him up, or shall I?”

“Why don’t we ask him?” Cullen suggests, looking down at the elf, who was trying his damnedest to rock his hips up against Cullen’s again. “What would you like?”

Alinar slides his hand down, gripping Cullen’s arousal through his breeches, his eyes widening slightly. “I… Want this.” He tilts his head, his eyes trailing down Dorian, stopping at his smalls. “Creators… I want both of you.”

“I think we can arrange that.” Dorian smirks. “Cullen, off him, please.”

Cullen does as he’s told, getting off the young man, watching as Dorian carefully guides him to the end of the bed and onto his hands and knees. “Amatus, the oil is on the bedside table, if you would like to open him up.” He looks down to admire the elf, his fingers curling around his chin and carefully lifting his jaw. The elf’s eyes were fixated on Dorian’s smalls, and Dorian notes this with a smirk, running his free hand over himself.

Having grabbed the jar of oil, Cullen moves behind Alinar, staring at the ass presented before him. He gazes up to Dorian, who was focused on pleasing the young man before him, setting the jar on the bed so he can remove his breeches. Cullen catches Dorian’s gaze as he does so, licking his lips, the mage pushing his smalls down. Cullen slicks his finger, running it carefully against the young man’s entrance. “Alinar, this might hurt a little bit. I’ll move carefully, but please do let me know if you’re in pain.” He says gently, watching the elf nod, slowly pushing his finger into him.

Alinar grunts, resting his head forwards against Dorian’s lower abdomen, relishing in the feel of fingers running through his hair again. Giving no protest to the intrusion, he waits patiently, groaning as Cullen’s finger slowly fills him until the ball of his palm is resting against his ass cheek. The elf lets out a pant, and lifts his head, looking up at Dorian. “Dorian… Ser, I…” He trails off as the finger begins to move, moaning, dipping his head. Unable to make his request vocally, he lifts his hand, wrapping it around Dorian’s length.

Dorian catches on, and reaches down, releasing himself from Alinar’s grasp. Before he says a word, the elf opens his mouth, and Dorian slowly pushes himself into the wet heat. He takes into account the fact that the young man had never done this, and forgives him for his sloppy movements, something he made up for in enthusiasm. His fingers remain in Alinar’s hair, letting his hips rock slowly, feeling the groan vibrate around his length when Cullen presses a second finger into him. Cullen runs his free hand up Alinar’s back, watching as it curved into his touch.

Cullen works carefully to prepare the young man, scissoring his fingers inside him, his face flushing at the noises he was causing the elf to make. Even muffled by a cock in his mouth, Alinar was still loud. Once he feels the elf is suitably prepared, he pulls his fingers out, a whine emanating from his throat at the sudden emptiness.

“Fret not, sweet thing.” Dorian coos, carefully sliding his length out of the young man’s mouth. “The emptiness won’t last long, I assure you.” His fingers brush over Alinar’s cheek, pushing his hair behind his ears. Dorian watches closely as Cullen slicks himself up, hesitating for only a moment before carefully pushing into the elf, giving him some time to adjust. Alinar groans, his head resting on Dorian’s lower abdomen again, Dorian doing his best to keep him calm.

Cullen holds still, rubbing Alinar’s lower back, humming. He looks to Dorian for his cue, and continues to press in until fully seated inside the elf, a loud moan passing his lips, and a groan rumbling in Cullen’s throat. He starts a gentle pace, his hands moving to grip the elf’s hips, grunting softly with each thrust.

Dorian chuckles as Alinar dips his head down in an attempt to take Dorian’s length back into his mouth, guiding his mouth back onto him. “He’s certainly very eager…” He hums, and groans when he’s bit, pinching the tip of the elf’s ear in approval.

The three men build up a harmonious pace in the time that follows, Dorian and Cullen doing their best to muffle their moans, and the moans of their Elven guest. Despite having already made a mess of the bed, Alinar’s stamina proves useful, still hard as the two men pound into him from either end. A whine leaves him as Dorian removes himself from his mouth, panting, the two sharing a long stare. Alinar opens his mouth, his tongue hanging past his lips, closing his eyes when Dorian begins to stroke himself to completion. Another whine, Cullen pulls from the elf, hot seed spilling up his back. A moment later, hot seed spreads across his tongue, his cheeks, dripping down his chin.

Cullen climbs off the bed, going to Dorian’s knapsack, grabbing a cloth to clean up the mess on Alinar’s back. Once cleaned, he moves to the foot of the bed, where Alinar was currently licking his lips, cleaning his face of Dorian’s cum. “Lay him back, love. He isn’t finished, yet.” Cullen bites his lip, watching as Dorian does so.

Dorian climbs over Alinar, leaning his head down, face just inches from the young man’s. He holds himself up on one arm, his free arm reaching down to wrap around the elf’s length. “Allow me to show you the pleasures of an _experienced_ tongue.” He purrs, and moves down the elf’s body, flicking his tongue teasingly over the tip of Alinar’s length. He relishes in the sound he draws from the young man, one slightly different to the noises he had previously made, allowing his mouth to be filled in one swift movement of Alinar’s hips. _Oh to be young and inexperienced_ he thought to himself, somewhat amused, his reactions having been the same as the elf’s when he was deflowered.

He takes note of the hand now in his hair, his head bobbing slowly, his tongue flattening against the length in his mouth. It doesn’t take long to push the young man over the edge. A few skilled flicks and nips against his skin, and his mouth is being filled, swallowing whatever the elf had to give him. Once done, Alinar releases Dorian’s hair, much to Dorian’s relief, and drops his arm on the pillow above his head. Dorian moves back, taking the cloth from a stunned Cullen, cleaning up wherever the elf needed to be cleaned. “Amatus, would you be so kind as to fetch the lotion from my knapsack. I do believe he’s going to need it.”

Cullen does as asked, fetching the lotion and handing it to Dorian, who promptly applies it and checks Alinar over to make sure he’s okay. Cullen sits on the bed with Dorian and Alinar, surprised when Dorian fusses over him as well, insisting that he make sure everyone is okay.

“Our guest is going to stay for the evening, amatus. I shall escort him out in the morning, before everyone gets up.” Dorian says softly, looking at the sated elf, who was already half asleep on the bed.

“Of course, love.” Cullen smiles, and leans over, kissing Dorian’s cheek. “Thank you for this.”

“Don’t thank me, amatus. It would have been blasphemous if we came all this way and _didn’t_ invite someone else into our bed.” Dorian shifts Alinar under the covers, allowing for both Cullen and himself to get into bed with him.

Cullen chuckles, and shakes his head, reaching over the elf to cup Dorian’s cheek. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, amatus.”

***

Dorian walks through the inn, and up the stairs to his shared room, having just seen off their nighttime guest. He pauses as he spots Bull waiting at the top, a grin on his face, and his arms crossed.

“So, how was it?” Bull asks, the grin never leaving his face. “Ben-Hassrath, remember? Did you really think I wouldn’t hear you walking past my door in the middle of the night, Dorian?”

Dorian sighs, running his hand over his face. “It was brilliant. Cullen enjoyed it, I enjoyed it, our guest enjoyed it. That’s all you need to know.”

“With the noises he was making, that guest of yours must have been a virgin.”

Dorian simply shoots Bull a glare, and moves past him to the door of his own room. “Please excuse me. I have a few more hours of sleep that I would like to use before I am faced with the tremendous of bowing to Orlesian fashion.” Dorian pushes the door open, listening to Bull’s laugh echo through the hallway, closing it again behind himself. Slowly, he crawls back into bed with Cullen, humming as the man wraps an arm around him and sleepily pulls him into a hug, allowing himself to drift off to sleep while he still had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I simply had to add in a threesome somewhere along the line. Dorian is, of course, the kind of person to use being in a city of strangers to his advantage. Anything to please his amatus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, mostly fluff. Some sad Dorian, snippy Trevelyan, but otherwise: lots of fluff. Enjoy.

Dorian glares at the clothes he’s handed by Josephine, his gaze diverting momentarily to the tailor, who was standing cautiously to the side of the group. His eyes trail around the room, each member of the group except Josephine and Leliana sharing the same disgusted look.  _ They’re perfect _ he hears Josephine say, snorting to himself, placing the clothing aside in absolute refusal.

“Lord Pavus, please.” Josephine pleads with him to put the clothes on. The tailor must know if they fit, she insists. “I am afraid that we simply have no time to change our formal wear. I promise, I will make it up to you when we get back to Skyhold.” 

“We also have no time for you to be behaving like a petulant child.” Trevelyan remarks from behind Josephine, his back turned away from the group as he changes in the corner. “We’re only going to be wearing them for a few hours, Dorian. It’s not quite the end of the world yet.” 

Dorian’s shoulders raise to his earlobes, gritting his teeth at Trevelyan’s snide and mocking comments, his hands clenching at his sides. Noticing this, Cullen moves beside Dorian, resting his hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. 

“Inquisitor, I do not think it wise or polite to agitate the people who you’re supposed to be working with.” Cullen says, his hand moving down to rest between Dorian’s shoulders, moving in small circles to calm the man down. “Dorian has done nothing wrong, so I’m failing to understand the cause behind this-” Cullen cuts off as Cassandra clears her throat, the pieces falling into place. “I see.”

Dorian reluctantly snatches up his clothing, and grabs Cullen’s wrist, pulling him through to another room so they can change. “I understand that he hasn’t had his lyrium this morning, but you would think he would be a little  _ less _ snippy.” He sighs, undressing down to his smalls, pulling on the formal wear. 

“It’s a rather unfortunate side effect, my love. Thankfully, I am past the stage of meaningless anger in my withdrawal.” Cullen also undresses, pulling the formal wear on. “He’ll feel better once Seeker Pentaghast administers his vial.” Cullen tries to reassure him, watching as Dorian goes over to the mirror, unsurprised by the gasp of horror that follows a few seconds later. He walks over behind him, resting his hands on Dorian’s hips, the side of his face resting on top of Dorian’s hair. “Not typical Tevinter fashion. Not typical Thedasian fashion, either. But, I suppose it will suffice if we are to appear at the Winter Palace.”

“I hardly want to be seen in something as… shocking as this.” His fingers toy with the sash, frowning, turning around to look at Cullen. “Must I honestly make an appearance in  _ this _ ? Can I not spice it up a little?” 

“Not if we are to be taken seriously, and respected as the Inquisition.” Cullen says, watching a heaved sigh exit his lover, taking the man into his arms to hug and hold him. “I’m sure it’ll look much better on the night.”

“I suppose we should go through to the other room and show Josephine. The sooner we do that, the sooner I can get out of these horrendous clothes.” Dorian takes a step back, looking once more in the mirror, before turning to lead Cullen back out of the room. The pair walk through to the room they had previously exited, re-joining the rest of the group. 

“You all look wonderful!” Josephine says, pressing her hands together, a smile painted across her face. “The Orlesian Court will be very impressed with our presence, and Grand Duke Gaspard will be happy with our efforts.” She looks around. “Since the formal wear seems to fit everyone perfectly, you are permitted to remove it. Please bring it back in here for safekeeping, and then you are allowed to continue your exploration of the city.” She exchanges a knowing look with Cassandra, and then dismisses them all. 

***

Having removed the formal wear, and left it with Josephine for safekeeping, Dorian and Cullen leave to explore the city, Bull following them not so far behind. “It’s a shame that there’s nowhere here we can train. I could really do with hitting someone with a stick, right now. Or setting someone on fire.” Dorian grumbles, his bad mood causing him to reject Cullen’s offer to hold hands. “And my staff is locked away, like I’m some kind of  _ brute _ that will attack random citizens.”

“That’s not the reason it’s in the supplies, Dorian.” Cullen sighs, simply wrapping his arm around Dorian’s waist, cautious of the man’s temper. “But, if you wish to train, we can speak to Josephine later, and we’ll find somewhere we can go. Okay?”

Dorian nods, following Cullen around the city, spotting a stall with expensive trinkets decorating it. “Amatus, may we have a look?” 

Cullen raises his eyebrow, turning his head to look at what Dorian was pointing to. “Oh, of course, love.”

Dorian smiles, and pulls Cullen over to the stall, admiring the many different trinkets, ornaments, and other various decorative items spread across the table. Cullen watches Dorian, a warm smile on his lips, happy to stand here and watch Dorian admire the objects if it will make him happier than he was. Of course, Dorian spots something of Tevene origin, a miniature dragon statue, with  _ Manaveris Dracona  _ etched across the base. “Excuse me, my good man.” Dorian says to the stall owner. “How much for this?”

The man glances at Dorian, and then at the statue he was holding. “80 sovereigns.”

Dorian pulls his coin purse from his breeches, counting the money inside it, a wave of anger and disappointment washing over him at his lack of money. “I… Am afraid I don’t have enough money.” He places the statue down. “I apologise for wasting your time. Come on, Cullen.” Dorian marches off towards the nearest tavern. 

Cullen looks towards Bull. “Would you go and make sure he doesn’t drink too much, Bull. I have some business to take care of.”

“Sure thing, Cullen.” Bull follows after Dorian, catching up with him quickly, and walking into the tavern with him. 

Once both men are gone, Cullen picks up the same miniature statue that Dorian had placed down, looking it over. He could see why Dorian wanted it. Evidently, it held a lot of history, and reminded him of his homeland. “If I buy this, is there a possibility you could place in a box and gift wrap it?”

“Of course, Ser.” The man says, a smile showing just underneath his mask. 

“Thank you.” Cullen hands the man the statue, taking his own coin purse from his breeches, and handing over the coins to the vendor. He takes the now gift wrapped statue, and heads to a different stand. He catches sight of the rings in the corner of his eye, contemplating for a moment, but opting not to buy one. Not yet. After deciding that there was nothing else suitable for his lover, he makes his way to the tavern, holding the box behind his back. There were already three empty tankards on the table at which Bull and Dorian were sat, Dorian’s head on his arm. Trevelyan chiding him earlier had gotten to him more than Cullen would ever have expected. He would certainly need to have a word. 

“Love.” Cullen sits at the table, in the seat next to Dorian. “If you lift your head, I have something that you may like.”

Dorian lifts his head, his eyes puffy and his kohl a little smudged. “There is nothing I would like more than to leave this wretched place and go back to sleep, amatus.” He says, the quiver in his voice evident as he refuses to allow himself to cry much more. 

Cullen’s face drops at the sight of Dorian’s, placing the box on the table, cupping Dorian’s face in his hands. “Dorian… Love, why are you crying?”

“Everything has gone wrong, today. I’m not used to everything going wrong. Not consistently, anyway.” He sighs, lowering his gaze to stare at Cullen’s chest, feeling sorry for himself. “I love you, amatus. I… Apologise for being an embarrassment like this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You are just as entitled to feel upset about things going wrong as any other person is.” He wipes Dorian’s cheeks with his thumb, and picks up the box on the table. “I thought you might enjoy this. Here.” He hands it to Dorian, watching a glint of curiosity peak in his eyes. 

“Amatus…” Dorian bites his lip, opening the box slowly, peeking inside of it. Carefully, he pulls out the miniature statue he had admired at the stall, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. He admires the statue further, tears welling in his eyes and threatening to spill again, placing it on the table to pull Cullen into a hug. “You didn’t have to buy this for me, amatus.”

“I wanted to. I hate to see you upset, and it’s obvious that it means a lot to you, it being from Tevinter. I know how much you miss home, Dorian. If this statue reminds you even just a little of your homeland, and brings a smile to that spectacular face of yours, then I am more than happy to buy everything your heart desires.” Cullen says softly, brushing his fingers lightly through Dorian’s hair, thankful that Bull had decided to leave once Cullen sat down. “Still wanting to go back?”

“Actually, I… Would like to continue looking around.” He carefully places his gift back in it’s box. “I’ve had a drink, I’ve had a cry. I’m ready to continue our exploration. How do I look? Be honest with me.”

“Your kohl has smudged, but other than that, you look absolutely divine.” Cullen smiles as Dorian chuckles. “Come, love. I saw a fantastic weapons shop on my way over here, perhaps we could find you a new staff?”

***

Dorian’s chuckles fill the air as he and Cullen return to the inn. It was late afternoon before either of them decided it was time to go back, taking the opportunity to have a date in a quaint café on the high street. In a much better mood now, Dorian takes his new staff, his gift, and the bottle of wine they had taken hostage from the café, through to their bedroom and drops down onto the bed. “Amatus,” He says as he slowly sits up, running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you for today.”

“There’s really no need to thank me, love.” Cullen smiles, resting his hand on Dorian’s cheek as he’s pulled between the man’s legs. It was the moments like this that Cullen adored the most. “I’ve never been as in love with anyone as I am with you, all I wish is to make you happy.”

“It’s just… With Trevelyan’s comments this morning, his chiding, his… anger towards me for no apparent reason other than his lack of lyrium…” Dorian sighs, his head coming to rest against Cullen’s stomach, lifting it as Cullen kneels down to Dorian’s level. “My father would do the same. After he found out about my interest in men, in the most unfortunate way, his attitude changed. All he expressed was anger, disappointment. He would make a point of telling me how I would be the cause of the Pavus bloodline coming to an end, or being tainted, and that I had to marry a young woman, and provide another heir. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to have children someday, it’s more that I… Cannot give up who I am simply for the preservation of my bloodline. Selfish, I know.” 

“I’ve told you this before, and I will continue telling you this for as long as I need to. It’s not selfish to put yourself first, Dorian.” Cullen presses a small kiss to Dorian’s forehead. “I would never ask more of you than to be yourself. Though, I may one day ask you to be a little less snarky, especially when you meet my siblings.”

Dorian laughs, his head leaning into the hand on his cheek. “Your family are going to adore every aspect of my being, snark included.”

“If you insist, love.” Cullen shakes his head, kissing Dorian once more, before rising to his feet. He groans as he stretches, humming as a pair of hands reach round him and grip his ass playfully. “What is it you want, love?”

“I would very much like to sit on that couch over there, and read. We must find a suitable book, first.” Dorian releases his grip on Cullen’s ass, and stands, exiting the room to find the bookshelf. Cullen takes a seat on the couch against the wall furthest from the bed, spreading himself across it in the most ungraceful manner, waiting patiently for Dorian to return. When Dorian does return, with several books, he places all but one down on the floor next to the couch. “Don’t fret, amatus. I assure you, I will manage to read all of these to you by the time we have to call it a night.”

“As long as that night doesn’t turn into an early morning, and then no sleep at all, I’m not worried.” He chuckles, repositioning himself as Dorian slips onto the couch between his legs, resting his back against Cullen’s chest. “Is this comfortable for you?”

“It is, love. Don’t worry.” Cullen kisses the top of Dorian’s head, his arm coming to rest behind his own head, listening to the other man’s silk smooth voice as he begins to read to him. 

Dorian reads for some time, Cullen quite content to be a cushion for him, idly running his fingers through the other man’s hair at various points in time to indicate that he was both still awake, and still listening happily. Having read two books already, The Maker’s First Children and The Legend of Calenhad: Chapter 1, Dorian realises it is late, and they have been reading together for several hours. He doesn’t stop, however, having had no protest from Cullen, and so picks up the third book: The Legend of Luthias Dwarfson.

“For fifteen years, the Alamarri and the Avaar fought. During the Battle of the Red Falls, a powerful young warrior from Morrighan’nan’s tribe challenged Luthias to a battle.” Dorian reads aloud, shifting his weight lightly on his lover to get more comfortable. “Luthias was injured grievously, but slew the boy. Morrighan’nan revealed that the boy was Luthias’ son, conceived fifteen years ago during their tryst.” Dorian pauses as Cullen inhales deeply, a light snore following the breath. He tilts his head back to see that Cullen had, in fact, fallen asleep at some point during their reading session. No wonder his hair hadn’t been pet in a while, he thought to himself. Ensuring not to wake the man, Dorian simply turns his head back to the book, continuing to read it to himself. 

Josephine enters the room late in the evening, worried as neither Cullen nor Dorian had shown for the evening meal. She is presented with the sight of both Dorian and Cullen asleep on the couch, a position she insisted could not possibly be comfortable, Dorian with a book against his chest, and Cullen with an arm wrapped around him. She leaves, closing the door as quietly as she had opened it, allowing the men the sleep they needed ahead of the Ball tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manaveris Dracona - Long live the Dragons


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night they had been preparing for had finally come. Trevelyan and Josephine took to the Ball and the nobles easily, while others were struggling to maintain control over their emotions and fears. 
> 
> Cullen intends to further his relationship with Dorian, and not just by dancing the last dance with him.

The day had arrived. The ball at the Winter Palace was this evening, and Cullen was nowhere to be found. The group had awoken early, much to the wishes of their lady ambassador, and settled in to breakfast as soon as they could. Cullen was present for that, Dorian had sat next to him at the table, but as soon as he turned his back to speak with Cassandra about his spare lyrium vials, Cullen had seemingly disappeared from Thedas entirely. 

“Bull.” Dorian said, looking up at the horned man, who grinned down at him. 

“Dorian. I was just about to help pack all this shit up again. What do you need?”

“Where is Cullen? I can’t seem to find him, and I find it highly impossible that he’s just vanished.”

“Last I saw, he left the building. Not sure where he was going. Didn’t look too good, either. Would’ve stopped him, but he seemed pretty determined to be alone.” Bull shrugs. 

“Great, so now he’s walking around Halamshiral on his own.” Dorian runs his hand over his face. “If anyone asks, I’m trying to find him. Thanks, Bull.” Dorian then turns, and leaves the inn, walking around Halamshiral, determined to find Cullen. How difficult could it be to find a tall, blond, human male in a sea of elves and various Orlesian nobles who had arrived here for the ball today? 

Very, apparently. Dorian had been searching for what seemed like an hour now, worry and concern washing heavily over him. How could he have lost Cullen, of all people? He slows, and comes to a complete halt outside one of the shops in the market, the loud chatter making it difficult to hear himself think, let alone listen out for Cullen’s voice. 

_ No thank you. I’m fine. Really. _

Dorian frowns at the familiar voice, and turns, his eyes widening as he finally spots Cullen, spotting but ignoring the way Cullen quickly hid something in his pocket. He marches towards the man, grabbing his wrist, pulling him somewhere secluded and out of sight. “What do you think you’re doing? I’ve been looking for you for  _ hours _ now, Cullen!”

“Dorian, I…”

“I’ve been worried sick. Don’t just disappear on me like that!” Dorian presses his finger against Cullen’s chest, furious, slowly dropping his hand when Cullen’s expression dampens. He watches Cullen fight back the tears in his eyes, taking a shaky breath, looking down. 

“I’m sorry, love. I just needed some time alone.” Cullen’s hand rests lightly on Dorian’s forearm, lifting his gaze to meet the other man’s. “I panicked. I’m worried about this evening, about getting my troops inside. If I don’t get them in… It’ll all go wrong. Then it’ll be my fault if Empress Celene gets assassinated, and…”

Dorian rests his forefinger on Cullen’s lips, quieting him. “Amatus, there is absolutely no need to worry. I assure you, everything will go to plan, this evening. We will succeed, and we won’t let Corypheus’ future come to pass.” He says softly, a hand resting on Cullen’s chest, noting the increase in breathing pace. “I will be there with you, remember? Like I’m here with you, now. Breathe with me, Cullen.” Dorian gently brings Cullen’s forehead down to his own, feeling the other man’s hand come to rest on his chest. “Slowly. Breathe, amatus.”

It takes some moments, but Cullen finally manages to steady his breathing, wiping the wetness from his face. He lets a single heavy breath, allowing himself to calm, clearing his throat. “I apologise, Dorian. I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, amatus. I’m the one who should be apologising for being angry with you. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Dorian takes Cullen’s hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “I trust you’re feeling considerably better than you were?”

“I am, thank you.”

“Shall we return, then? Preferably before Leliana sends out Bull to kidnap us and force us back?”

Cullen laughs, and nods. “Yes, we probably should get back. Big day. Lots to do. Things to sort.” He laces his fingers between Dorian’s, following the man as they return to the inn. 

As they arrive back, Leliana and Cassandra both flash Dorian knowing looks, a slight nod of his head confirming their suspicions. Cullen releases his hand from Dorian’s, insisting that he needed to pack their clothes and various items back into their knapsacks. Bull catches Cullen shifting a small box inside his pocket, his curiosity peaking. Once gone, Dorian turns to Leliana, who speaks softly.

“Josephine insisted that we leave your bedroom alone, and we agreed. It is… Something of a habit for him to clean and organise after an episode such as that.” Leliana moves over to Dorian, watching him closely for a long moment. “I trust that you are alright?”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. I’m more concerned with how Cullen is going to be this evening.”

“He is a soldier, Dorian. Tonight, you will not see the worry or the fear on his face. He trained for many years to remain a neutral party, to show no emotion in the face of war.” She says. “But he will need any and all comfort that you can provide. There will be moments when you are free  to relieve him of his post, and find peace elsewhere, but not for long. I will be close to him at all times, so I assure you, if he needs you, you will know.” 

Dorian blinks, but nods. “Thank you. I should assist him with packing.” 

“No. Leave him to do it himself. I believe the Inquisitor intended to speak to you, anyhow. He is in the reception area.” 

Dorian sighs, but does as requested, returning to the reception area and standing behind Trevelyan with his arms crossed. “You wished to speak to me?”

“Ah yes, Dorian.” He turns, facing the mage. “I… Was informed of your distress following my attitude towards you yesterday morning.” 

Dorian furrows his eyebrows into a frown, tightening the crossing of his arms across his chest. “Well, yes. When one is berated and belittled like a child who has stolen from his father’s cookie jar in front of an audience of his peers, distress tends to happen.” 

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I had no right to treat you as I did, and lacking lyrium is no excuse.” Trevelyan shifts uncomfortably, it was evident that Josephine had convinced him to apologise. “I also wanted to thank you. For… Providing Cassandra with a lyrium vial this morning as my supply had run short. You didn’t have to. Certainly not after my attitude towards you yesterday. But I am thankful that you did.” 

“I’ve witnessed what Commander Cullen has to go through with his withdrawal. I would hate for the same to happen to you.” Dorian’s voice is considerably softer, his arms having loosened and lowered to his sides. “Addiction is a terrible thing, Inquisitor. We have already seen its effects on you. Perhaps after this is all over, you can get help. Maybe Cullen will help you.” Dorian pauses for a long moment as Trevelyan tenses, shaking his head. “I know that he didn’t approve of your training, Max. But he is proud of the progress you have made, as a soldier, and as our Inquisitor.”

“Thank you, Dorian.” 

“You don’t need to thank me. Remember what I told you? Nobody will thank you when all of this is over. Nobody will thank any of us.” Dorian says, and turns, leaving Trevelyan standing dumbfounded in the reception area. 

***

Evening falls, the group had arrived at the Winter Palace, and the festivities were already underway by the time they made their presence known. Cullen’s initial reaction to the sight of the Winter Palace was awe, admiring every aspect of the grounds that he could. It wasn’t long before they were escorted inside, leaving Trevelyan outside to acquaint himself with Grand Duke Gaspard, Cullen taking his place inside the vestibule. He watches as Dorian, Bull, and Leliana are led through the large doors to the Grand Ballroom, making himself as comfortable as he can be when he is surrounded by Orlesian nobles. Cassandra joins him at his side, a disgusted noise coming from her, Cullen doing his best to stifle laughter as she makes the noise. 

“I need to have this jacket let out a little…” He says idly to Cassandra, who doesn’t pay him much attention, crossing his arms. The Grand Duke appears in the vestibule, waiting patiently by the doors to the Grand Ballroom for Trevelyan, relief washing over him when the man finally comes through. 

Once the formalities had been addressed, the group was finally allowed to mingle with the other guests at the ball. The Inquisitor, of course, took to the Ball as naturally as a bird took to flying, being a noble himself. Many times had he and Josephine spoke of grand parties they had attended, often Cullen would find Dorian had joined the conversation, too. Just as the thought of Dorian crosses his mind, the man strolls past him, a glass of wine in his hand. Cullen catches the wink that Dorian directs at him, feeling the back of his neck and his ears heat up, clearing his throat and turning his attention to the nobles trying to speak to him. As their questions die down, Cullen’s thoughts turn back to Dorian, intending to find him.

“Leliana.” Cullen addresses the spymaster, having politely ensured he wouldn’t be interrupting a conversation. “Have you any idea where Lord Pavus went?” 

“Yes, Commander.” She smiles. “He is in the guest garden, associating with some nobles from Val Chevin, I believe.” 

“Excellent, thank you.” Cullen nods his head, and makes his way through the guest wing to the garden, finding Dorian by a statue, relishing in the attention he was gathering. 

Dorian’s eyes flick over to Cullen, grinning, flicking them back to the nobles as he excuses himself. “My attention is required elsewhere. It was a pleasure to meet you, I am sure.” Dorian nods his head once at the men, and delicately kisses the glove of the seemingly young female accompanying them. He meets Cullen halfway, walking towards him as the other man does, his fingers lightly brushing the sleeve of his jacket. “Are you enjoying the evening, amatus?” Dorian asks, quiet enough for only the two of them to hear. 

Cullen watches Dorian’s hand, his own hands resting on his pockets, a smile forming on his lips. “I’m enjoying it more now that I’m in an open space, rather than the Grand Ballroom.” He says softly, lifting a hand, brushing his thumb over Dorian’s cheek. “I was wondering if perhaps… You would care to dance later? The last dance, that is.”

“You want to dance with a Tevinter magister in front of the entire Orlesian Court? How scandalous.” 

“But you’re not… I thought you were an Altus, not a magister?”

Dorian chuckles. “You are remarkable. Of course I would like to dance with you, Cullen.” 

Cullen stares blankly for too long a moment, blinking, and clearing his throat. “Wonderful.” He smiles, and glances around, catching sight of the Inquisitor. “I should leave you be. I am sure you’re needed elsewhere. There’s no other reason for Trevelyan to be rushing over here as he is.” 

“I will see you soon, amatus. Try not to get smothered by Orlesians. They do like their handsome Fereldens.” Dorian smirks, handing Cullen the glass in his hand, walking away with Trevelyan.

Cullen frowns at the glass in his hand, but takes it back inside anyhow, placing it on the dish of a servant who was making rounds to clean up. Returning to his assigned post, he doesn’t miss the look that Leliana gives him as she glances at his pocket. He stands firm as she moves next to him in an attempt to make light conversation, both listening out for the fighting coming from the direction of the servant’s quarters. 

“Proposals are a common thing at Orlesian parties, Commander.” Leliana remarks innocently, watching the gathering of nobles across the Ballroom, before directing her gaze towards Cullen. “They are as common as the scandals, and the murders.” 

“What exactly are you suggesting, Leliana?” Cullen raises his eyebrow, glancing down at the woman, shifting nervously in his spot. 

“Did you think I would miss the ring-box shaped bulge in your pocket? Did you think Bull would, as well?” Leliana smirks, crossing her arms delicately across her chest. 

Cullen sighs, his hand instinctively falling to his pocket. “You mustn’t mention it. I… Hope to surprise him. I wish to dance the last dance with him, but I don’t plan to further our relationship in front of the court.” He confesses.

“I am very happy for you, Commander. I shall not tell anyone, it is not my wish to impose on your moment.” Leliana hums softly, lightly patting Cullen’s arm before making to leave. “You have a following, Commander. I should leave you to chat.” She breaks away before Cullen can protest, watching briefly as the nobles gather around him and insist they pay attention to him. 

***

The night draws slowly on, Cullen’s control over his emotions beginning to crumble. He had never been particularly good at being in enclosed or crowded spaces for this long, despite his training as a Templar. However, the evening was close to ending, with the formal dances having been completed. Trevelyan was, of course, nowhere to be found. Nor was Cassandra, Dorian, and Iron Bull. His only option for the moment was to hope the Maker would allow him peace until his lover returned to sweep him away from the crowds once the speech was over. 

Fortunately, the Maker had decided to bless him today, Dorian appearing among the crowd as though nothing had happened as soon as he felt some colour begin to drain from his face. One by one, the group reassembles in the Grand Ballroom, preparing for Empress Celene’s speech. Grand Duchess Florianne and Grand Duke Gaspard part the crowd as they walk through, standing on show momentarily by the bannisters, before making their way down to the steps of the dancefloor. Quickly, Cullen makes his way over to Trevelyan. 

“Thank the Maker you’re back! The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?” He asks, maintaining his posture, refusing to allow a momentary lapse in emotional control to come in the way of this evening’s most important decision. 

“Wait here, Cullen. I’m going to have a word with the Grand Duchess.” Trevelyan says, the confidence in his words not convincing Cullen. 

“What? There’s no time! The Empress will begin her speech any moment!”

Trevelyan simply flashes Cullen a smile, and makes his way down onto the Ballroom dance floor, through the crowd, and up to the steps. Cullen, Dorian, and the others stand at the bannisters to watch, less than convinced that this will go any way but the wrong way. “We owe the Court one more show, Your Grace.” The man says, remaining momentarily at the bottom of the steps, waiting for Florianne to face him, before making his way up. 

Cullen watches cautiously as Trevelyan addresses both the Court and the Duchess with his words, speaking of the events of the garden, and how her plan to keep him out of the Ballroom had failed. The Duchess’ plans to assassinate the Empress had been foiled, Inquisition soldiers restraining her so that she may be taken for judgement at Skyhold. A short silence takes over the court as the Inquisitor is escorted to the balcony with Gaspard, Briala, and Empress Celene, all before loud gossip and accusations fill the air again. Cullen watches as Dorian rests his hand on top of Cullen’s that was resting on the bannister, smiling up at the man, diverting his attention towards the head of the Ballroom when Celene, Briala, and Trevelyan return. 

Briala was to become an ambassador, to work alongside Empress Celene, an apparently useful ally in the war against Corypheus. Her help would also influence a possible alliance with the elves, giving Celene an increase in power, and the pair a reformed relationship. 

Cullen runs his hand over his face. He could hardly believe it was possible they had made it through the evening alive, let alone without chaos and destruction happening along the way. The group was finally free to enjoy the rest of the evening, and Cullen was free to find Dorian for the last dance. Unsurprisingly, he finds Dorian speaking with Bull, both of them drinking whatever was currently being served, as the punch had run dry no more than an hour ago. He joins Dorian at his side, giving Bull a look as though to ask him not to mention anything, before turning to the man and holding out his hand. “Dorian. The last dance shall begin any moment now. Care to join me?”

Dorian places his glass down, taking Cullen’s hand. “I would love to join you, amatus.” 

Cullen smiles, a faint blush painting his cheeks when Bull winks and smirks at him, leading Dorian through to the Grand Ballroom, and onto the dancefloor. Their timing is well met, as the music changes when they get themselves into position. Dorian smiles at Cullen to reassure him, following the lead he sets when the cue to dance is played. 

The pair move elegantly across the floor, not once noticing the group in the audience, smiling happily at each other and exchanging a few comments to make each other laugh. They effortlessly adjust their tempo with the music, a few nobles murmuring their compliments loud enough for the group to hear. Cullen lowers his head to rest it lightly against Dorian’s, pressing a light kiss to his cheek when he has the chance. “Dorian…”

“Yes, amatus?” Dorian lifts his eyes to meet Cullen’s gaze, flashing him a smile. 

“I have never been more in love with anyone than I am with you right now.” Cullen says softly. “Thank you. For giving me the confidence to do this.” 

Dorian stares at Cullen, trying to process the words that had just left Cullen’s mouth. No matter how many times Cullen complimented Dorian, thanked him, or professed love for him, Dorian would never get used to it. “I love you too, amatus.” 

Cullen smiles, lowering his head a little lower to press a brief kiss to Dorian’s lips, before resting his forehead against the other man’s again. The music comes to an eventual stop, as does the dance, each pair bowing politely to each other as the audience applauds each pair that had completed it. 

Dorian walks slowly ahead of Cullen, dismissing himself and Cullen from the dancefloor, before making to resume place at the table for some more alcohol. Cullen catches Dorian by the arm, biting his lip. “My love, if I could steal a moment longer of your time, I promise you can get some more to drink afterwards.”

Dorian raises his eyebrow as he turns, catching glimpse of Leliana and Bull watching them, more curious than anything as to why Cullen had stopped him. “Of course, amatus. What is it?”

“Could we possibly go somewhere private for this? It’s… Rather personal.”

Dorian glances up at Bull and Leliana again, both of whom were smirking as they turned, and left to go about their business. His gaze returns to Cullen, and he nods. “Lead the way, amatus.”

Cullen slides his fingers between Dorian’s, and leads him to a balcony off the Grand Ballroom. He rubs the back of his neck, breaking away from Dorian’s hand, pacing for a moment in front of him. Dorian watches, his head inclined slightly to the side, concern beginning to wash over him. Finally, Cullen stops in front of Dorian, clearing his throat. 

“Dorian. I… Don’t have anything prepared. Maker, I have thought several times in the months we’ve been together about what I would say if I were ever in this situation with you.” Cullen sighs, his hand dropping to his side, looking at Dorian, taking his hands in his own. “We’re in the middle of a war, but all I can think about is losing the chance if I don’t do this now. I love you, Dorian. If the Maker will allow us to survive this mess, all I want is one thing.” Cullen releases Dorian’s hands, and reaches into his pocket, dropping down onto his knee. “I want you in my life, Dorian. Now. The future. For as long as the Maker will allow. Marry me?”

Dorian stares at Cullen, shocked, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. He looks at the ring as Cullen reveals it, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “Oh, Cullen. You ridiculous man. Yes. Yes, of course I will marry you.” Dorian admires the ring as his glove is removed and it’s slipped onto his finger, allowing himself to be embraced by Cullen when he stands. His arms wrap tightly around Cullen’s waist, his face pressed against his chest as the tears finally spill, laughing at himself. His chin is tipped up, and he grins at Cullen, kissing him softly. “I assure you, these are good tears, amatus.” 

“As long as they remain that way, I’m happy.” Cullen brings his hands up, wiping away the wetness on Dorian’s cheek with his thumbs. “We… Can’t have the wedding straight away, my love. But-” He is silenced by a finger on his lips. 

“I know, Cullen. Fret not. We can discuss the ceremony at a different date. Let us enjoy this moment now, though.” Dorian smiles. “We should take this celebration to our bedroom. Perhaps the mighty Lion of Ferelden can make his prey forget his own name.” Dorian’s smile turns into a grin, his hand gripping Cullen’s jacket. “Several times.” 

Cullen flushes, arousal washing over him, licking his lips. “I certainly like the sound of that idea. Shall we go, then?” 

Dorian’s grin only widens, and he takes Cullen’s hand, pulling him back through the Grand Ballroom and towards their guest bedroom. While the evening was drawing to a close for the rest of the group, Trevelyan and Josephine having shared a private dance, and the Inquisition gaining another agent, the fun was only just beginning for Cullen and Dorian. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be smut in the next chapter, I promise!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, I have been trying to get this done between college and sleeping. This chapter is smut. Lots of smut. All of the smut.

Dorian’s back is against the door almost as soon as it closes, Cullen’s hands holding his wrists above his head, hips pressed and rocking against each other as they kiss. One of Cullen’s hands releases the grip for a moment, reaching down to lock the door, before resuming grip on the wrists above Dorian’s head. Dorian hisses at the bite he receives to his bottom lip, pushing his hips sharper against Cullen’s, coaxing a groan from the man, a smirk toying at his mouth when their gazes meet.

“You know,” Cullen moves both of Dorian’s wrists into one hand, the other gripping the front of his jacket. “I know exactly how to make these dreadful clothes look much better.”

“Oh, and how is that, amatus?” Dorian bites his lip, thoroughly enjoying being pinned against the door.

“By taking them off.” Cullen purrs, his hand working quickly to open the jacket, pulling the leather belt off, the silk sash following, allowing the jacket to fall open and expose Dorian’s chest. “Though I could easily look at you in this state all day.”

Dorian’s cheeks heat up as he feels Cullen’s eyes bore into him, following the man’s gaze, his breeches having already tented. His eyes widen as Cullen kicks his foot to the side, spreading his legs further, slotting himself between them. Dorian inhales sharply when Cullen presses against him, and ruts once, tossing his head back against the door. “As… As much as I’m enjoying this, amatus, I-” He cuts himself off with a groan as Cullen bites and kisses the skin of his throat, his legs threatening to give way underneath him.

“You what, love?” Cullen pulls back, smirking, admiring the mark he had left in the crook between Dorian’s neck and shoulder.

“Bed. Before my legs give way completely.” Dorian almost begs, gripping Cullen’s hand with his own, melting under Cullen’s touch when his hand finds his way into his breeches, brushing teasingly over the silk covered imprint of his cock. “Please. Amatus, please.”

Cullen keeps his hand down Dorian’s breeches for a moment longer, relishing in the soft whimpers he could draw from the man, removing his hand and placing both of them on Dorian’s hips. He pulls Dorian away from the door, edging him towards the bed, letting go of him so he can sit. Cullen resumes in his efforts to remove the jacket, tossing it to the floor, his fingers unlacing Dorian’s breeches and pulling them from his hips.

Dorian leans back on his hands, watching his lover drop to his knees at the foot of the bed and undress him, making little to no effort to actually help. Cullen’s hand comes up to his chest, pushing him to lay back, before both hands are on his hips again, and a long, wet stroke can be felt moving up his length. “Oh, Cullen…” Dorian sighs, pushing his hand into Cullen’s curls, lifting his hips when his small clothes are tugged at. Dorian huffs at the lack of contact when Cullen has to sit back for a moment, tugging off his boots so the rest of his clothes can follow, his back arching when the tip of his cock is enveloped in wet heat. He slides his hand back in Cullen’s curls, tugging lightly in a feeble attempt to get the man to give him what he wants, the restricted movement of his hips thoroughly turning him on.

“Kaffas... Cullen,” Dorian tightens his grip on the curls in his hand, pressing his head back against the covers. His thoughts divert to the few silk scarves he and Cullen had opted to pack for tonight, their knapsacks brought to their room by Palace servants, of course. He’s ripped from his wandering thoughts when Cullen bites him, sliding his tongue delicately over the tip. Dorian’s hips push up, managing to resist some of the force holding him down, a growl vibrating in Cullen’s throat. Dorian lifts his head, thankful that he had the ability to last longer than when he was a young man, as the sight of Cullen’s mouth wrapped around his cock would have had him finished. He catches the menacing glint in Cullen’s eyes, following his gaze as he looks to the knapsack at the head of the bed. Dorian was almost certain that Cullen had read his mind, his head dropping back down with a gasp when he is bitten again, a small surge of magic running down through his fingers and down Cullen’s spine, who lets out a throaty groan, much to Dorian’s surprise.

Cullen pulls back, licking his lips as he does, climbing onto the bed, still clothed, and reaching over Dorian to grab the knapsack. Slowly, being sure to maintain eye contact with Dorian as he does, he pulls the silk scarves from the pocket in the knapsack they were kept. He places them in a pile in Dorian’s periphery, removing only two from the collection, lifting them to show the delicate dragon pattern in the light, black upon the white silk.

“You are far too clothed for this, amatus.” Dorian drawls, his hand coming up to press against the bulge in Cullen’s breeches, his other reaching down to stroke himself.

“Hush, love. You’re not in charge tonight.” Cullen gives Dorian a smirk that the mage found both incredibly feral, and attractive, at the same time. “Move up here.” Cullen shifts out of Dorian’s reach, patting close to the pillows. “And roll onto your stomach with your hands behind your back.”

Dorian bites his lip, happily doing as he’s told, throwing a _Yes, Commander_ at Cullen. He moves up the bed, and rolls onto his stomach, pressing his chest into the sheets as he props his ass up on his haunches. He then moves his hands behind his back, crossing one wrist over the other, waiting to feel the familiar silk bonds tie them together. The sound that comes from Dorian when his hands are tied is similar to a purr, arching to the hand that trails along his spine, and cups his ass. He is left once again as Cullen undresses, turning his head to watch him as he does so, humming in approval.

Cullen grabs the oil jar from the knapsack, placing it down on the bedside table, moving down to the foot of the bed and settling behind Dorian and cupping his ass again. He pats it lightly, testing, the backwards push he receives telling him all he needed to know. He raises his hand, and smacks Dorian’s ass, drawing a loud moan from his lover. Cullen reaches forward, grabbing the second silk scarf. “I’m going to blindfold you now, love. Is that okay?”

“Yes, amatus.” Dorian allows himself to be lifted, sitting up, the silk scarf placed carefully over his eyes, and tied at the back of his head. He waits patiently as Cullen checks the tightness of the knot, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“You remember our word, love?”

“Yes.” Dorian hums.

“Tell me what it is.” Cullen moves Dorian slowly onto his back, his head hanging over the side of the bed.

“Soporati.” Dorian says confidently, assuring Cullen of his knowledge of their stop word.

“No judgement, no questions. We stop, work out what went wrong, and choose whether to end the session or continue with adjustments.” Cullen lowers down to Dorian’s height, kissing his forehead. “Open your mouth, love.”

Dorian does as he’s asked, opening his mouth for Cullen, forcing his tongue to rest against his bottom lip so as to not block access for his lover. Slowly, he feels Cullen’s length enter his mouth, just halfway at first, closing his mouth around him. He relaxes his throat, and gives Cullen a light nip to the skin as a way of telling him that it was okay to move, listening to his lover’s groans when he pushes further and into his throat. Dorian attempts to swallow around Cullen, the action coaxing another, yet more throaty, groan from him.

Cullen rocks his hips, pushing himself in and out of Dorian’s mouth, building a steady pace, fighting back the moans threatening to spill from him when Dorian begins to drag his teeth with Cullen’s thrusts - not wanting to give the man any semblance of dominance this evening. He feels a heat begin to pool, reluctantly pulling himself out of Dorian’s mouth, his breathing staggered and heavy. “Can you move onto your stomach by yourself, love, or would you like some help?” He reaches down, lifting Dorian’s head, not wanting the man to get light-headed when he sits back up.

“I think I should be fine.” Dorian licks his lips, and carefully maneuvers himself on the bed to the head of the bed, settling as he was prior to Cullen moving him. “Like this?”

“Perfect.” Cullen hums appreciatively, grabbing the oil from the side table, placing it next to him as he takes position behind Dorian. His hands grope Dorian’s ass, fingers digging into the skin, bound to leave bruises in the morning. “I should leave marks where people can see them…” He purrs lightly, biting his lip as Dorian’s back arches in response to his comment. “Oh, would you like that?” Cullen leans over Dorian, his hands astride his shoulders, close enough to him to feel him shiver when he breathes on his neck. “Would you like everyone to see how the Lion marks his prey? Claims him?” His voice turns husky, deliberately pressing his hips against Dorian’s ass with the words that follow. “But they’ll never know how I hold you down, make you beg, fuck you and make you scream until your voice is hoarse, then make love to you like I’m going to lose you tomorrow.”

Dorian whimpers, exhaling heavily. “ _Kaffas, Cullen_ .” He tilts his head to allow Cullen access when he decides to bite up his throat, shivering when he feels his tongue run over his most sensitive nerves. “You _tease_.” He huffs, listening carefully to the sound of a jar opening, and a humming from Cullen’s throat. He didn’t have to see to know that Cullen was slicking his fingers, waiting, gasping when a finger is pressed slowly into him. His body relaxes just moments after the intrusion, and Cullen’s attentions are gentle, delicate at first, it is clear he doesn’t want to hurt Dorian. “I am not made of porcelain, amatus.”

A low hum vibrates in Cullen’s chest, twisting his finger teasingly, still moving it agonisingly slow. Dorian whines, the noise quickly replaced with a gasp as a second finger is pushed inside him, stretching him open. He hisses words of approval, bathing in the praise that Cullen was more than happy to give him. “Fuck, Dorian… Are you going to be loud for me, tonight? Are you going to let the Orlesian court know how much you enjoy being _fucked senseless_?” Cullen punctuates his words with short, sharp thrusts of his fingers, then slowly spreads them as he bites Dorian’s ear. Cullen smirks when Dorian’s hips jerk back against his fingers, more than happy to push them further, hitting his sweet spot and tearing loud moan from the man. He keeps his fingers moving, his free hand coming up and holding Dorian’s hips in place, his chest pressed flush against Dorian’s back.

Dorian mewls and squirms, thoroughly looking forward to the finger marks he would have on his hips in the morning, whining at the loss of Cullen’s heat and fingers when he removes them and sits back. He grumbles impatiently at his lover, shifting his head so his forehead is rested against what feels like the pillow. “Amatus…” He whines, the clunking noise of the clay lid closing on the jar echoing through the room. He goes quiet for a moment, listening closely to the sounds of wet slick being smothered over Cullen’s cock, his own cock twitching between his legs and leaking precum. “Cullen, _Kaffas_! If you don’t fuck me right now-” He is cut off by Cullen’s free hand covering his mouth, the man chuckling heavily, pushing his legs apart with his knees.

“What if I _don’t_ fuck you right now, Dorian? What if I leave you here? Open… Waiting… _Leaking_ …” Cullen’s wicked grin could be heard in his words, and despite Dorian knowing Cullen wouldn’t just leave him here, Dorian can’t help but whimper at the prospect.

Cullen shifts onto his knees, groping Dorian’s ass for a long moment, before lining himself up. He presses just the tip against Dorian’s entrance, and he feels the man immediately tense under his hands, waiting, longing for Cullen to fuck him senseless. Cullen takes a moment to admire what he could of the ring on Dorian’s finger, before sliding a hand down into Dorian’s hair, tugging his head up as he pushes into him. The moan that exits Dorian sends shivers down Cullen’s spine, straight to his cock, encouraging him further. Halfway, he pauses, giving Dorian time to adjust.

“Cullen!” Dorian protests to the pause, pushing back with a hiss. “ _Fuck me._ You damned man, I beg of you, _please_!”

Cullen grins, pushing into Dorian until he’s fully seating, rolling his hips leisurely, just to tease him relentlessly. He hears a soft whimper, and it takes him a moment to register that the noise came from him and not Dorian. He takes his time, enjoying Dorian’s meaningless protests to his pace, his hips snapping sharply despite himself. Some moments later, his grip on Dorian’s hair tightens as he builds a faster pace, groaning in his throat and chest, a long string of noises and various Tevene curses mixed with his name spilling from Dorian’s lips.

“The mighty- _ah, fuck, Cullen_ \- Lion of Ferelden takes his- _Kaffas, don’t stop_ \- Prey.” Dorian half purrs half whines, finding it difficult to do much more than lie there and be thoroughly fucked without the leverage of his hands. His fingers grip and scratch at the silk scarf around his wrists and hands, deliberately pulling against the tug on his hair to get more of a kick out of it, mewling when Cullen catches on and tugs harder.

Cullen admires the way Dorian’s back had arched in an attempt to push himself further against him, the thin sheet of sweat shining on his skin, releasing his hair, planting both hands either side of Dorian’s head. He dips down, biting at the shell of Dorian’s ear, Cullen’s chest inches from his back. He uses the angle of his hips to push harder into Dorian, hitting Dorian’s sweet spot, groaning into the man’s ear and taking pride in the pants and moans coming from Dorian with each thrust of his hips. Cullen’s head tilts, lips kissing just under Dorian’s ear, his own hands curling and gripping the covers tightly with Dorian’s deliberate tensing around him. “Louder.” He says firmly, punctuating the demand with a hard thrust. “Louder, Dorian.”

Dorian happily obliges, his moans getting louder. “Commander- _Oh, fuck! Cullen_ -” He gasps when his shoulder is bit, pressing his face against the pillow, painfully hard between his legs. His breath catches when he realises that Cullen is marking his skin, shivering underneath him. “Untie me…” Dorian pants, almost demanding despite knowing it was futile, pushing back against Cullen. “Untie me… Flip me over and fuck me…”

Cullen chuckles, slowing his hips all the way, thrusting once, twice, three times into Dorian before coming to a halt. “I’m not going to untie you Dorian. You know that.” He removes Dorian’s blindfold, setting the silk scarf aside, reluctantly pulling out for just a moment, flipping the man onto his back and grinning. “But I _will_ make you forget your name by the end of the evening.” He promises, settling on his knees, lifting Dorian’s hips to his own and pushing back into him.

Dorian groans loudly when he is filled again, panting as Cullen builds his pace back up, wrapping his legs around Cullen’s waist. His hips and back arch as Cullen slams into him, his voice becoming hoarse, the sounds of skin slapping skin filling the space between their moans. Dorian’s cock twitches, his eyes clenching shut, heat pooling in his abdomen. “Cullen…”

“Don’t.” Cullen smirks, a hand snaking down to wrap around Dorian, stroking in time with his thrusts, testing him. “I know you can hold a little longer, Dorian.” Cullen purrs, rubbing his thumb over tip of Dorian’s cock, his pupils blown as the man squirms beneath him.

“ _Kaffas!_ You insufferable man!” Dorian whines, biting down hard on his lip as he tries valiantly to hold back, drawing blood. His hips jerk in protest, only tensing further, but fuck, Cullen was hitting Dorian in the right spot over and over, and it was becoming increasingly hard for Dorian to hold back from spilling himself over Cullen’s hand.

Cullen’s head tilts forwards slightly, his mouth hanging ajar as he himself tenses, twitching inside Dorian. His eyes flick up to catch the slight smirk tugging at the corner of Dorian’s lips, the other man preoccupied with _not_ peaking. Cullen removes his hand from Dorian’s cock, and places it back on his hip, both hands now giving him the leverage to thrust relentlessly into the other man. “Oh, _fuck_! Maker, Dorian, cum for me…” Cullen moans as his head drops forwards again, the pace of his hips staggering, the heat pooling in his abdomen becoming almost unbearable.

Dorian doesn’t require much encouragement, grinding his hips back against Cullen’s, a loud moan of his lover’s name, followed by a string of Tevene curses, spilling past his lips as he reaches climax. He spills over his stomach and chest, pressing his head back against the pillows, tightening his legs around Cullen.

Cullen gasps at the sudden tightness around his cock, his thrusts becoming harder as they slow, nearing his own release. He looks at Dorian’s disheveled state, the way he had painted himself with his release, digging his fingers into Dorian’s hips. Cullen chases his release, closing his eyes, moaning as he spills into Dorian. “Fuck, love…”

The stench of sweat and sex fills the space between them, the pair disentangling themselves from each other. Cullen helps Dorian to sit up, reaching behind him to untie his hands, laughing softly when Dorian’s immediate reaction is to fling his arms around his neck and kiss him. “Let me-” He hums, cut off by bites and kisses, pressing a hand to the man’s chest to push him away. “Dorian, let me clean you up.” Dorian pouts at him, and he laughs again, getting up to find a cloth he could clean the man up with. Once both men are clean, Cullen lays down on the bed, pulling Dorian into his arms.

“Please tell me we can go again tonight.” Dorian hums, resting his head on Cullen’s chest, listening to the man’s steadying heartbeat. His fingers glide slowly across the scars on his torso, along his ribcage, and down his abdomen.

“When we’re ready, we can go again. But not as rough. You’ll be sat down for a considerable amount of time tomorrow if we’re to make any progress on returning to Skyhold.”

“Ah yes. The return journey. Do I at least get to sit with you the entire way, this time?” Dorian looks up, nudging his head against Cullen’s hand, content when the man begins to pet it lightly. “I should be most disappointed if I can’t, especially following the events of this evening.”

“You do, in fact, get to sit with me the entire way this time, Dorian.” Cullen tilts his head to look down at his lover, watching him admire the ring on his finger, his own fingers coming up to join them. “The moment I saw this ring, I thought of you. I couldn’t _not_ buy it.”

“It’s perfect, amatus. I… Have to admit, I was never expecting anything like this.” Dorian squeezes Cullen’s hand, their gazes joining, a light blush tinting Cullen’s cheeks. Dorian smiles, and turns his gaze back to the ring. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Cullen Rutherford. I could not ask for a better partner, for it would not be possible. Promise me… Promise me that you’ll make it through this. With me. No matter what it takes.”

Cullen pushes himself up onto his elbow, looking down at Dorian with longing in his eyes, unlacing his hand to rest it on Dorian’s cheek. “I promise you, Dorian Pavus, that we will make it through this. No matter what.”

Dorian smiles, his hand coming up to the back of Cullen’s neck, pulling the man down so their lips are almost touching. “Good. I hope to one day adopt a new name.” He whispers, and kisses Cullen, their lips meeting in a renewed passion.

Dorian hums as Cullen is once again on top of him, his body being pinned by the other man’s, both of them intending to make love until they are too tired to continue. Their chests were still heaving, panting softly into each other’s mouths as the kisses get heavier. A clunking filled the air again as the lid of the oil jar was removed, and then set aside.

The evening had been a success in more ways than one, and it needed to be celebrated. Properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one more work that will be added to this series, and then it is finished. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.


End file.
